


good sleep is hard to find

by intearsaboutrobots



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sleepy Cuddles, basira and daisy's relationship isn't Explicitly romantic but it is very romance adjacent, implied basira/daisy - Freeform, set post-entombed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 12:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18941347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intearsaboutrobots/pseuds/intearsaboutrobots
Summary: Daisy had escaped the Buried. She had, she knew that. The feeling of confinement crept in anyway. It snuck in when she was tired and vulnerable, wrapped itself tight around her chest and squeezed until she couldn't pull in a breath.At least she didn't have to bear it on her own.





	good sleep is hard to find

Daisy stretched in her seat, trying and failing to find a comfortable position. She looked up at Basira - still bent over her stack of reports, taking notes with the same focused expression she'd had when she sat down hours earlier. How she could spend such long hours cooped up in the library without going mad, Daisy didn't know. Her ribs complained as the arm of the chair now dug into her side, and she shifted her weight, wood creaking. Without looking up, she knew Basira's brow was furrowed in annoyance and she winced apologetically.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm done, I swear."

She tried to look contrite. Basira sighed and looked up from her report, marking her place with a finger.

"You know, you don't have to wait for me if you don't want to. Why don't you go get some rest, I'll be done in -" Basira glanced at the clock and swiftly changed tracks. "I'll be done soon."

Daisy knew Basira was being kind, but she could hear the impatience that had seeped into her voice. Her shoulders hunched self-consciously and she looked away, focusing on a patch on the arm of her chair that had started to splinter. She began picking at it as she responded.

"Can't." She pried a splinter free and let it drop to the floor. "I - after the Buried, I - I can't."

Daisy hated the weakness she heard in her voice and tried to lighten her tone. "Besides, someone has to watch your back in here. I mean, I suppose the Beholding is watching everybody's back, but that hasn't stopped people from being hurt, has it?"

The line was meant to break the tension but it fell flat in the dusty quiet of the library. She winced again. "Sorry."

She scratched harder at the chair, scraping with ragged nails. Well, great. She'd embarrassed herself thoroughly, but at least Basira probably wouldn't make her leave now. Hopefully. She picked at a bigger splinter, trying to ignore the crawling, exposed feeling on the back of her neck. She was so focused that when a hand touched her arm, she jumped a mile, narrowly avoiding jamming the splinter under her nail. Basira lifted her hand, taking a little step back.

"You," Basira said, in a tone that brooked no argument, "need some sleep, and you're not getting it in this chair. There's a couch behind the stacks in the back, why don't we move so you can lie down for a bit?"

Daisy pushed herself up from her slump and blinked hard to focus her vision. "I - You don't have to do this for me. You have work to finish, I can wait. I'm fine."

"Well, I could use a change of scenery to get my work done, so think of it as killing two birds with one stone." Basira stretched a hand out, offering to help Daisy up.

Daisy didn't have it in her to argue and took Basira's hand to lever herself out of the chair. Her skin was cool against Daisy's, and she pulled her up with surprising strength. Daisy swayed with the motion as her legs protested holding her weight and Basira took her weight, smoothly sliding an arm around her waist. Memories of the times before they'd gotten tangled up in the Archives welled up in Daisy's mind, times when contact like this would have been casual and simple instead of fraught. Daisy did her best to ignore them.

_This is not that,_ she reminded herself. Basira's arm was firm around her, but impersonal. Supporting an injured asset, not - not anything else.

The couch Basira led her to was hidden behind rows of shelves, looking like it hadn't been used in years. It was small, barely enough space for two people to sit side-by-side, and the leather had long since faded and cracked. Basira let go of Daisy to sit, legs crossed, at one end. Daisy followed in her wake, trying to hide her hesitation. Even sitting ramrod straight she was hyperaware of the places their shoulders lightly brushed. She folded her hands in her lap and fidgeted, cracking her knuckles for something else to do. She looked like a nervous teen, she knew, but she couldn't dispel the anxiety tangled in her stomach. Maybe this had been a mistake. She should tell Basira that she'd changed her mind, they should go back to where they were because being so close to what they used to have hurt too much.

Next to her, Basira exhaled softly.

"I can see you thinking. Just - relax a little, okay? Even if you can't sleep, you can close your eyes for a while."

She tugged Daisy gently into her, settling her against her side. Daisy tried her best to relax, ordering her muscles to loosen. This should have been the easiest thing in the world, she and Basira should have fit together like puzzle pieces. They'd both changed too much thought, Basira growing sharp and dangerous, her angles digging into the places Daisy had been hurt.

Basira's arm shifted behind Daisy, and she felt her pause before tentative fingers began carding through her hair. Daisy's breath caught in her throat but Basira didn't comment, continuing to draw swirling patterns over Daisy's scalp. When they'd first been partnered, Daisy had still been wrestling with the Hunt, sometimes finding herself overwhelmed with the instinct to _pursue_. She didn't know how, but Basira had always known when it was too much and would pull Daisy aside, to a rarely travelled part of the station or eventually to her apartment. She'd coax her into lying down and then pet her close-cropped hair, the touch grounding Daisy enough that she could tune out the pressing need and rest. She was relaxing before she knew it, the tension draining out of her muscles.

As she drifted off, the last thing she heard was Basira's report flipping open and her pen scratching across the page.

* * *

Daisy blew out a sigh, idly wandering the aisles of the library. Basira was out on "an investigation" and had suggested that Daisy stay here, settle in. It hadn't been said unkindly, but it didn't take a genius to read the subtext - _You're a liability_. She shook her head, trying to dispel the thought, and grabbed a random book off a shelf to distract herself.

She was a few pages in, flipping past what seemed to be illustrations of medieval demons, when the door opened behind her. Daisy turned, confused.

"I didn't think you'd be back yet, how did it -"

She stopped. It wasn't Basira who'd walked in. Instead Melanie stood in the doorway, jaw set purposefully. The fact that she was carrying an armful of pillows and blankets did nothing to change that.

"We should sleep together," she announced.

Daisy kept staring, waiting for something to make sense. Melanie went on, clipping out her words with icy precision.

"See, when I slept on my _own_ , your _girlfriend_ and Jon the bloody _archivist_ decided to cut my bloody _leg_ open."

Melanie looked up at Daisy, and she saw the rage quaking behind her eyes.

"So now I can't sleep _alone_ and I certainly can't trust _them_ , and I'm not about to drag someone else into this _shit_. That leaves me with you or Martin, and who knows where Martin's fucked off to these days." Melanie bared her teeth in a smile. "So, what do you say?"

Melanie ran hot, Daisy discovered. They'd found a secluded corner of the library to hole up in and had done their best to construct some kind of comfortable bed out of the pieces Melanie had brought, but the scrounged blankets were thin and the floor was cold enough to destroy any pretense they might have had of not cuddling. Daisy had ended up with her arm over Melanie's waist, her forehead tucked into the back of her neck. Melanie smelled faintly of sweat, a hint of iron underneath. Somehow, maybe it was Melanie's nonchalance, but it wasn't too intimate. Daisy's eyelids were already drifting shut when Melanie spoke.

"If I start screaming tonight, or - or anything, _don't_ try to touch me," she said, measuring her words. "I'll hurt you. Badly, probably."

Daisy's eyes popped back open. Melanie's voice had been steady but Daisy could feel how tense she'd gotten. She opened her mouth, searching for a response, then closed it again. What could she say? I'm sorry? She didn't think Melanie would appreciate that kind of sympathy. The silence had gone on too long, she had to say something. Daisy opened her mouth and started fumbling ahead.

"I - if I have a nightmare," Daisy started, feeling her way forward, "Don't - touch helps, sometimes, but don't hold me still."

It wasn't much of an admission, really. Melanie almost certainly could have guessed it. That didn't keep Daisy's throat from going dry, thought. She felt Melanie's head bob in a nod.

"Fair enough." Then she laughed, a short sharp bark. "God, this place has really fucked us up, hasn't it."

It was a bleak statement, but something Daisy felt something uncoil in her chest at the words. Melanie had named the worry that had been hanging over Daisy's head since she'd gotten back from the Buried - that they had been here too long, broken too much, and now there would be no way back. Somehow, knowing that someone else felt it too lightened the load, sharing the burden. She hummed in acknowledgment, closing her eyes and letting Melanie's heat warm her.

* * *

_Daisy woke from a confusing dream of confinement and not enough air, groggy and panicked. She sat up and knuckled at her chest, trying to convince it that she was out from that unbearable weight of stone and dirt. Her breaths rasped painfully in the back of her throat, coming too hard and fast, and it felt like she wasn't getting enough oxygen. Basira had given her some breathing exercises and she fumbled for them now, trying to get her heart to stop pounding. She dug her nails into her arm, grounding herself with the sting._

_Eventually, she wasn't sure how long it had been, Daisy managed to get her breathing to a slow, steady rhythm, her throat sore from the ragged gasps. Sweat cooled on her skin, her shirt sticking to her back. Taking a deep shaky breath, she released her tight grip on her arm, wincing at the deep marks she'd left in her skin. Basira had been busy researching for a couple days now and Daisy had barely slept, but she'd thought she could get away with a short nap in the break room. She squeezed her eyes shut and muttered a curse, trying to stuff down how upset she was at the unfairness of it all. She'd just wanted to sleep for a few hours, that was so normal! She should be allowed to do that! Biting back the tears she could feel threatening, she turned to get up._

_She blinked._

_A cup of tea sat on the coffee table next to her._

_Daisy squinted at it. The mug steamed._

_It was the middle of the night. And someone had come in while she slept, unaware and left her a cup of tea. Her skin crawled at the thought. Still, it didn't exactly seem like any of the Powers' modus operandi, or if it was it was the strangest one she'd ever seen. Leaning in, she sniffed the tea cautiously. It was... chamomile? Cautiously, she wrapped her hands around the mug, the heat just the right side of burning. Could it have been... Basira? It didn't quite seem like something she'd do, but there weren't many people who could have gotten in here at all, and she frankly doubted Jon's ability to take care of himself, let alone anyone else._

_She sipped the tea, waiting for something terrible to appear and take advantage of - whatever this was. It tasted perfectly pleasant, a little bit of honey making it sweet, just like she liked it._ This place is making me as paranoid as Jon _, she thought with a snort,_ I'm jumping at cups of tea now. _She didn't quite let down her guard yet, but by the time she'd finished the mug the tension of the nightmare had mostly seeped out of her muscles. She didn't lie back down, not quite ready to chance sleep, but she leaned back against the couch and let her eyes shut. It was enough for now._

* * *

"Jon, where is the - what happened to you?"

Daisy's nose wrinkled. The air in Jon's office smelled stale, as if it hadn't been disturbed for days. Jon himself was slumped forward over a pile of papers on his desk in a way she almost could have mistaken for focus, had she not seen that he was staring blankly in a mug of coffee. A stack of empty dishes teetered dangerously close to his elbow.

"Jesus, how long have you been in here?"

Jon lifted his head to look up at her as if it weighed a ton and Daisy hissed in a breath. Jon had always had circles under his eyes, he'd never been fastidious over his appearance, but this was something else. The bags under his eyes were dark and heavy, his hair looking more like a bird's nest than anything else. Lines of exhaustion, the same as the ones she saw in the mirror, were etched into his face.

"I'm fine." His voice came out hoarse, and he took a pull from his coffee, grimacing. "And the book is on Basira's desk."

Daisy's mouth thinned in annoyance. "You know I don't like you Knowing what I'm about to say. Don't dodge the question."

"Right, yes, I'm - I apologise, I thought perhaps - I wasn't sure if you'd said it already." Jon dragged a hand down his face and, with an effort, straightened. "It's been getting harder to tell the difference these days."

"Yeah, do you think that's because you haven't slept in fifty years? What the hell have you been doing down here?"

"Work." Daisy's doubt must have shown on her face because Jon huffed a laugh. "Saving the world does make for a busy schedule."

"You can't be saving the world if you're about to keel over. Do us all a favour and take a _nap_."

Jon ran his hands through his hair in agitation. "How am I supposed to do that? There's - there's rather a lot I have to do, between the Archives and the rituals, and Martin "

"Martin," Daisy cut in, "would not want you to treat yourself like this. Look, I know about being a thrall to one of these powers. We need the Archivist, yeah, but we need you too, Jon."

She softened, seeing how wrecked Jon looked. "Look, just rest a few hours. That's it."

Jon hesitated, one hand still clenched in his hair, and then crumpled a little.

"I suppose... a few hours couldn't hurt. Just, ah, just let me organise this first."

He started pulling the papers strewn over his desk into piles, his hands shaking. Daisy stepped forward, into his eyeline.

"Jon," she ventured, "would you like a little help?"

Jon's brow furrowed and he looked up. "With the papers?"

Daisy shrugged a shoulder.

"The papers, if you want, but I meant the sleep too. I know that with," she gestured widely, encompassing the whole of the Archives, "it can be hard to let your guard down alone."

Jon squinted, the familiar, slightly constipated, look that meant he was wrestling with his feelings. Daisy waited patiently, letting him deliberate. When he spoke, consideration weighed on every syllable.

"Yes... yes. Help would be... appreciated." He tagged on hastily, "With sleeping, that is. You - I don't think you can see the order for these."

He looked down, a little self-conscious, and shuffled the papers in front of him into a slightly tidier stack. Daisy didn't press, taking a step back.

"Sure thing. I can pull out a cot, be ready for whenever you're done."

She found a fold-up cot leaning against a shelf and pulled it down, wrestling with the creaky metal. At last it relented with a groan, unfolding into something approximately bed-shaped. Jon was still fussing with the papers on his desk, so Daisy sat down and started unlacing her boots. She was pulling the second one off when Jon walked over and she scooted to the side to make space for him. He hesitated, his hands twisting.

"Are you sure this is - is this alright? I don't want you to feel obligated because you - because of what I did for you."

"I promise, Jon. I could use the sleep myself if I'm honest."

Jon didn't look entirely convinced, still peering at her skeptically, but it must have been enough because he at least sat down next to her. He looked stiff and awkward, sitting with a careful distance between them that he didn't seem to know how to breach. Daisy wondered suddenly how long it had been since he'd been close to someone else like this. Since the institute? Since Georgie? She felt a pang of sympathetic loneliness, and leaned back against the ancient pillow.

Negotiating a position for both of them to lie on the cot was precarious - it was small for one person, and by all rights too cramped for two. There were a few near falls before they found a position where neither of them was on the verge of tipping off. Jon had ended up lying halfway across Daisy, his head on her chest. The weight across her - she sucked in a breath but it only got halfway, her lungs compressed. Anxiety started to rise in her chest, choking her.

"Do you mind if I - ?"

Her words were too pressured to pass off as casual, but Jon didn't resist as she pushed him to the side, one arm wrapped around him to keep him from falling off the bed. His head still rested on her shoulder, his arm draped across her stomach, but she could take a deep breath, then another, enough that the panic started to recede.

She looked down at Jon, or at least the top of his head. He hadn't commented or asked any questions, thank goodness. She didn't feel like rehashing her trauma just now. Besides, he probably knew or Knew what was wrong - he'd been down there with her after all. Either that or he was just too awkward to address it, or maybe both. This was Jon, after all.

"Sorry about that," she said quietly, "Is this alright?"

"It's fine."

Jon's voice was thick and choked. Daisy felt the urge to ask him what was wrong, but resisted it - Jon was already making a lot of concessions by allowing her so close and pushing him more wouldn't help. She wrapped her arm more tightly around his shoulders, feeling them tremble, and pulled him closer. The strangest thing was how quiet he was. The only sign that he was upset were a few muffled wet inhales and the tears soaking into the fabric of her tank top. If she hadn't been this close, if she'd been even a few feet away, she likely wouldn't have even noticed that he was crying. The thought disquieted her, the idea of Jon curled up in his office with tears running down his face, alone. She rubbed her hand in small circles on his back, trying to push the thought away.

Her arm was starting to tire by the time Jon's breathing evened out and he'd relaxed against her. She kept rubbing his back, not wanting to wake him, until her fingers began to tingle. She carefully shifted his head, taking some of the weight off of her shoulder. She wiggled her fingers in relief, feeling blood rush back to her hand.

Jon grumbled a little in his sleep, not waking but burrowing his face a little deeper into her neck. Daisy looked down at him. He looked smaller in his sleep, unguarded in a way she wasn't sure she'd ever seen him. The scars marking him stood out more sharply like this. As the Archivist they fit, indicating the conflict between powers, the large-scale conflict for influence. Now, looking more like a very tired librarian, they stood out sharply.

_It's good for him_ , she thought, _to remember that there are pieces of him the Eye hasn't taken yet._

Good for all of them, probably. She didn't know how long they'd be able to hold on to those slivers of humanity, not with the way things were going, but she could guarantee she wouldn't let any of them go without a fight. She moved so her chin rested on the top of Jon's head, so she was holding him as much as she could. She would protect them, all of them, even if it was only from themselves.

**Author's Note:**

> wow, this fic took a while! this is maybe one of the longest fics to edit that i've ever done? so i'm very happy to set it free at last :D
> 
> many thanks to @kalgalen for proofreading and encouragement when i couldn't stare at this any longer, it accelerated this getting posted by ~3 months of nitpicking probably
> 
> if you, like me, would like everybody in the institute to get some nice soft cuddles and a little peace, you can throw me a comment or come talk to me on [tumblr](https://intearsaboutrobots.tumblr.com/) or [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/intearsaboutrobots) !


End file.
